


The Impossibles in: The Tiresome Tickler

by Aoede



Category: The Impossibles (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Non-Consensual Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoede/pseuds/Aoede
Summary: Just another day just another assignment for The Impossibles ― or is it? (SPOILER WARNING: NOPE)





	The Impossibles in: The Tiresome Tickler

**Author's Note:**

> Trivia: When Coily mentions a "Minneapolis cookie mascot" he's actually referring to the Pillsbury Doughboy — who was apparently originally voiced by Paul Frees, a.k.a. Fluidman. Small world! （゜◇゜）
> 
> Also now available in podfic form thanks to the amazing ballpoint!

♪ _Baby, it’s funny the way you look at me_  
_Smiling eyes like I’ve got a head and a half_  
_Don’t wanna say it, honey, honey, don’t worry_  
_Go ahead if you wanna laugh, laugh, laugh_ ♪

In the teeny tiny faraway farm town of Pink, Okalahoma, we find the famous singing Impossibles entertaining at the Wine & Music Festival hosted by Tony’s Tree Plantation. Where every A-OK bigwig is enjoying the food, family, and some.

One such big name is Dr. Lola Loughlin, Board Director of the Oklahoma Historical Society, stopping by on tour with the Sooner State’s latest prized artifact, the Okee Dokee Smokee Treasure Map Anthology.

“Yes, from the Army coins in Mill Creek Cave to Coronado’s Fabled Seven Cities of Gold, Oklahoma is home to dozens of well-kept tales of hidden treasures!” Loughlin expounded. “Now everyone will be able to get in on the rich history of Oklahomans getting rich!”

Meanwhile, a shady figure steals the slim spot of shade at the edge of the poppin’ plantation party. “Heheheheh! And with all those treasure maps, I’ll be able to hunt down tons of Native and Spanish gold! I’ll be a millionaire! Just have to get the lovely Ms. Loughlin a laughin’ and I can get her grip on that map book to slip — and right into my hands!”

With a threat like that, this could only mean the work of that oddest yet cruelest of villains: The Tiresome Tickler!

“Some might say I’m tripping, but taking is quite easy while tickling!” the Tickler mused, snaking out long stretchy arms like something out of a Hargreaves kids’ book. “Kitchy koo! I’ll take those treasure maps from you!”

With a shriek and a giggle, the woman jumped, reflexively tossing the anthology up out of her hands. The villain easily snatched it, cackling again before reeling in his arms and slinking away.

“That was a heck of a scream!” Fluey noted. “What happened?”

“Help, HELP! Some rude ruffian just wrested away the Oklahoma Historical Society’s Okee Dokee Smokee Book of Treasure Maps!” the frazzled doctor cried, arms flailing.

“There’s the pilfering pirate!” Multi said, pointing, finger following the fleeing frisker. “He’s peeling out of this plantation party pretty fast!”

On cue, the trio, turned at the sound of beeping from Coily’s guitar. “Hold tight, fellas! Big D’ll give us the whole drop on this map-swiping mook!”

“That map thief was none other than the Tiresome Tickler!” their boss bid. 

The three double-taked with a unison “Huh?!”

“Now that just sounds nuts!” the black-haired one mused. Glancing back and forth with the others, he added “I mean, not IMPOSSIBLE, for sure, but…”

“’Nuts’ as it may sound, he’s surprisingly competent,” Big D said. “But he must be stopped before he can acquire all the tale-told treasure in the state! Think you can do it?”

“Sure, we’re not that ticklish, we can take him!” the redhead assured.

Now their white-haired boss seemed to briefly smirk. “Famous last words, boys — but I’ll take ‘em. I trust you and I know you’ll do your best. Go get ‘em!”

With a synchronized salute, the trio chimed “Aye, sir! Rally ho!”

With the Tickler on their To Do List, the three singing Impossibles quickly turn into the incredible fighting Impossibles: Coilman! Multiman! And Fluidman!

“Rally ho and off we go!” they harmonized a second time, sailing off in the Impossi-jet.  
___

Landing the jet on North Louisa Avenue, they hopped out and headed after the very visible villain in their usual ‘toonish scramble. “Looks like the Tickler is taking off into that warehouse!” their purple-clad team leader announced.

“I see ‘im, I see ‘im!” Fluey said, “Gonna plug in through the pipes, rally ho ho!” and liquefied, funneling into the nearest drainpipe.

Inside, the Tickler quickly hoisted a medium-sized rectangular aquarium around the pipe’s other end, quickly snapping a lid on it once the watery one had finished filling in. “Fancy you dropping in, Fluidman! What do you think of my new tank?”

“Eh, it doesn’t really tickle my fancy,” the green-clad one quipped.

With a chuckle, the villain said “But it will tickle YOU! When you mingle with my lovely little German angelfish —” he opened a tiny hatch, tossing in two generous handfuls of longfin marine creatures that dove down, wriggling rapidly and swimming in tight circles before finally getting accustomed “— their feathery fins will drive you mad with laughter!”

True to his words, Fluey started chortling “Haha! Hahaha! Hey! HahaHAHAha! Rahahally — hahaHAAIIEE! Stahammering swihimmehers, that TICKLES! I caHAn’t even cahaHAll for HELP! HAHAHA!”

“I hear ya, Fluey!” Coily called regardless, hopping over. “Get your itchy tickle fingers off of my friend, you frivolous fiend!” and sprang out his arms as usual.

“And for you, Coilman, a few good vibrations should do the trick!” Catching his gloved hands and binding them, the Tickler pried out a sizeable tuning fork, striking it and wedging it between his arm coils before letting them snap back. The purple-clad one toppled to a chuckling heap. With a chuckling snort of his own, the villain slipped another one between his leg coils, jabbing “One good tuneup deserves another!”

“HAHAHAHA! CaHAckliHIng caHAn openeHErs! AhaHEhe cahan’t untaHAngle myself and I CAHAN’T STAHAND the TICKLIHING! RAHALLY HEHEHEY!”

“I’m comin’, Coily, Fluey!” Multi assured in his usual rush.

“And where is the Multiman ticklish?” the Tickler questioned with a sneer.

“That’s for me to know and you to go to jail without ever finding out!” the black-and-red-clad one cried, though holding his shield a bit lower as he charged, firing off the usual chain of copies. “Rally ho!”

With another chuckle, the villain pulled out and aimed a particular-looking pistol “Well, whether you’ll tell me or not, my Fine Feathered Feather Finder Gun will sniff out that splendid spot FOR me! FIRE!” and pulled the trigger.

Said feathers flew at the black-clad one and duplicates. Naturally the unfeeling unconnected copies had no reaction — but the original quickly doubled over, shaking and snorting and unsuccessfully trying to muffle his laughter through gritted teeth. “RaHAHAlly HEY! NoHO faiHAIHAIr!” he uttered, trying to swat them away.

“Looks like Multi has multiple weakspots!” the Tickler crowed. “How fitting! And no matter how you try, those feathers will keep on flitting! Have a few more, on me — or rather, on you! Bwahahaha!” Firing off a few more persistent plumes, he bid “Now, if you three will excuse me, I have a treasure hunt to tackle! Ta-ta!” and dashed back out of the building, book in hand.

The three heroes all lay in helpless heaps on the floor, still trying to catch their breaths through cachinnating.

“HAHAHA! HAHA!”  
“HAHAhahahaHA!”  
“HAHA! HAHAHAA!”

Finally, the momentum left the two forks, the floating feathers fell, and the fish fell asleep. Panting heavily, the three tried to pick themselves up. The black-and-red-clad one gave his head a clearing shake, brushing himself off a bit before untying the purple-clad one, who pried the lid off the fish tank, turning it upside-down and dumping out the green-clad one who quickly reformed.

“Thanks…!” Fluey said, twitching with a “Hehe!” before reaching into himself and plucking out a last stubborn angelfish, tossing it aside.

“Thanks, Multi!” Coily said, “You did your best. We all did, but…”

“This is one of the most ticklish situations we’ve ever been in!” the green-clad one exclaimed, brows briefly convex.

“Yeah, And now we know why they call him the ‘Tiresome Tickler’ —” Multi began.

“I feel more worn out than after a whole week full of our usual bad guys!” the purple-clad one said.

“Laughing your head off’ll do that,” Fluey said, “So whaddawe do, fellas?”

“We do what Big D told us to do: find the rascal, find the treasure book, and stop that nutty crook from wreaking havoc anywhere else!”  
“But how do we avoid the tickle traps?”  
“That we’ll have to think on.”  
“Well, we better think quick! Who knows where that quack is by now?”  
“Aw, he can’t be THAT far, c’mon, let’s rally back to the Impossi-mobile and track this troublesome tickle-fiend!”  
___

Meanwhile, roughly two hours to the southwest, the Tickler has arrived at Oklahoma’s majestic Wichita Mountain range. “Heheheh…that’s right! And the first stop on my treasure collecting tour. It says here that in 1900, three outlaws robbed a bank of $40,000 dollars in gold and buried it deep in the foothills of Mount Scott! Time to get digging and tickle my palm with a turn-of-the-century jackpot! Heheheheheheh!”

“Rally ho!” the hero trio chimed, rushing up in their car-turned-jet.

“Huh? It’s those Impossibles — back for more? Well, well…this time I’ll set a tickle trap they’ll NEVER escape! HeheHEH!” The Tickler darted off down the rocks and crawled into a cave below.

“Look, there he is!” Coily noted, again.

“Yeah, he just snuck around the ler side of that mountain — I mean, the lee side of that mountain!” Fluey said, adding quietly “Don’t know why I said that…”

“Let’s park here and trail his tail again,” Multi said, “but THIS time, don’t split up! We’re going to need to stick together if we don’t want to wind up in any more tickly situations!”

“Good thinkin’, Multi!” the green-clad one said. 

As they slipped into the cavern, the trio indeed kept apace of each other, peering around. Finally, the black-and-red-clad one ventured in an echoic bellow “Give yourself up and hand back that treasure book, Tickler! It’s impossible to escape justice forever!”

“It isn't with my latest triumph in tip-top top of the line tickle technology!” the villain gloated, “Impossibles, meet your new match: Tiktax!”

“Tiktax?” the purple-clad one reiterated, scratching his cowl.

“What do novelty breath mints have to do with anything?” the green-clad one asked.

“Nooo, you ninnies — ‘Tiktax’, short for ‘Tickle Tactics’! My brand new supercomputer!” the Tickler expounded, ordering “Get them — and get them GOOD, TT2!”

“Yes, Master!” the supercomputer bid, sending wires like an array of arms to grab them. The trio exclaimed wordlessly, quickly leaping out of the way, trying not to scatter.

“Don’t be shy! Tikky’s personality is really quite electrifying once you get to know her!” And at that, the machine darted its wires to snag them while they were even momentarily distracted by their new nemesis, sending currents through at just the right frequency. The trio jumped, writhing — Fluey the most, since even solid he was the most conductive, followed closely by Coily, and lastly Multi.

“Wehe’re tihickled to see you agaihain, too, Tickler, buhut —!” the black-and-red-clad one began, struggling to push out copies, but lacking the concentration for more than two. Four hands pulled on the wire, but couldn’t quite tug it loose.

“How about a little tied-down time, Fluey? Take a little soak break!” the villain taunted. Tiktax quickly yanked him up, throwing him down in an adjustable chair with specially tailored restraints.

Grunting, the green-clad one looked down. “Yow! Sponge cuffs! I can’t slip out of ‘em!”

“And a little conductive cushioned seat for you, Coilman! And one special duplicate-disabling sit-down for you, Multiman! Hahahaha!”

“Now you take good care of them while I’m off on my treasure hunt, Tikky chicky!” the Tickler cooed, turning and heading out for the dig site.

“With pleasure, Master!” the machine acknowledged, now springing three sets of myriad mechanical hands menacingly above the three, who craned their heads back with overlapping gasps.

“Primary directive: find most ticklish areas and exploit!” ‘Tikky’ recited, finally raining down her hands. The three howled, struggling and squirming in her grip.

She let out a loud beep when she registered Fluey’s pitch leap and bound when she started tweaking his fins. “Fluidman, feet — directive fulfilled!” and proceeded to focus on them.

“NoHOHOnoHO! Nahat the FEET, Tikky, baby, pleaHEAHEAHEAse!” the green-clad one begged to no avail, throwing his head back with a buck, bellylaughing even harder at swarms of even more fingers raking relentlessly.

Moments later, she recited “Coilman, stomach — directive fulfilled!”

“HeHEYHEHE! HAHAnds off the bellyHEHE! DoHO I look liHIke a MiHInneHEapolis cookie maHAscot to youHOU!?”

“No, but Fluidman’s voice registers very similar.”

“WHAHAT the HEHECK’s THAHAT supposed to MeHEHEan?!” Fluey cried.

“Multiman, ribs, sides, armpits, neck — directive fulfilled!”

“AHAHA! RAHALLY HEHELP MEHEHEE! MAHAKE IHIT STAHAHAAAP!” Multi bellowed, thrashing enough to almost finally flip the hair out of his face.

“JeeheeHEEz, Multihe! Souhounds lihike you’re a waHAlkiHIng bullseye, buddyheHE!” the green-clad one struggled to quip, looking over with a half-flinch over helpless face-stretching grin.

“Ahahaw, knoHOck it oHOff, FlueyHEHE!” the black-and-red-clad one retorted. “YouHOU’re not doing much BEHEHEHETTER!”

“BOHOTH of you caHAHAn iHIt!” the purple-clad one bid, “WeHE all need to saHAve our energyHEHEHE!”

Roughly another few hours later, the Tickler returned with his haul, in a typical sack slung over his shoulder. “And how are our guests doing, Tik?” he asked, then spied them laying back, breathing hard in their bonds. “Ah! I see you finally tickled the fight out of them! Great job, Ms. Tax!”

“A pleasure, Master,” the machine bid again. “What shall I do with them now?”

The villain took a breath — then paused, watching as he witnessed a phenomenon no other Impossibles’ Rogues Gallery regular ever had if he’d lived long enough on the lam to tell about it: their drained de-transformations. They lay dazed, lids all but closed, in green turtlenecks and purple jackets once more, still quite heavily huffing and puffing.

“Well, well, and WELL!” the Tickler mused, setting his sack down, “So it IS true — the famous fighting Impossibles are really the equally famous pop group Impossibles! What a coinky-dink! Don’t you think, Tikky?”

“Probability of match was already at 100%,” the supercomputer said plainly.

“True, true — but what a measly masquerade! Do you know what I think? Heheheheh…I think these three should be punished for such a silly deceit! Yes, another good severe TICK-LING for their RIDICU-LING!”

“PLEASE, NO!” the black-haired one begged.

“PLEASE!” the blond-haired one echoed.

“NO MORE TICKLING!” the redhead clarified.

“We’ll give up, we’ll let’cha go, we promise!” Coily added. “And we’ll figure out something to tell Big D and —”

“Whaaat?! The Impossibles? Give up? You all must be joking!” the villain said.

“We’re not — we thought you were one big joke, but you turned out to be tougher than anybody we’ve ever tangled with! …so we’ll make you a deal —”

“Probability of ruse, 89%,” Tiktax announced.

“Aw, stuff a sock in it, Tikky babe!” Fluey griped.

“Not a chance, but she can take yours!” the Tickler said, as the machine indeed pried the black-haired one’s boots off, taking to his tender soles and toes again.

“YAAIIIHEHEHE!” Fluey squealed. “I’m gonna go totally Looney Tunes if she keeps this up! HAHAHA! 

“AHAHAHA! NAHAT to mention we’ll be totally sidelined wiHIth laryngitis for weeheeks!” Coily rasped as the machine’s mechanical fingers slid under his shirt.

“NAHAHA! Now I knohow what my guiHItar feels like!” Multi managed to say.

“Hmmm…” the villain said, standing and watching, lids drooped, hands to his hips. “Guess I’ve finally done the impossible! I’ve turned the Impossibles back into the Impossibles, and turned them all into little balls of Impossi-giggles! Not bad, eh, Tikky?”

“100% of this endeavor was completed by me, 0% by you — treasure collecting my efficiency at 0% while yours is 100%,” the supercomputer reminded.

“Yes, okay, but remember: I created YOU! So really, I AM the one who finally beat the Impossibles!”

“Technically, you are correct. Literally, you are still not correct.”  
“Oh, hush! Just keep the Impossibles giggling until I get back from scoping out my next raid, got it, you beautiful hunk of bolts?”  
“Yes, Master. As you wish.”  
___

After almost a week of unanswered transmissions, Big D received a video tape with ransom note-style mismatched cutout lettering that read _For the Boss_. Popping it in, the white-haired man watched as his three best agents in their civilian forms no less looking quite bedraggled, laying quite helplessly laughing while the Tickler popped up with a wave, beginning to pace in front of the lens, pausing every so often to admire his handiwork.

“Howdy, Big D!” he said, grinning, turning with a bid of “Say ‘hi' to the nice man, Tikky-tax! …and you know what I mean, don’t be smart!”

“Hello, Sir,” the supercomputer bid. “As you can see, we’ve fully incapacitated your agents, whose identities we are now certain of.”

“That’s RIGHT!” the villain spoke up again, arm and finger raised, “HeheHEHEH! And if you don’t want us blowing their cover and your WHOLE OPERATION to the world, you’ll wire us THREE MILLION DOLLARS! And not a penny less!”

Big D’s eyes widened briefly, chin still in hand, though he sighed with a few wide slow shakes of his head, lids drooping closed. “I warned them…”

“Oh, and we don’t mind interrogating The Impossibles for an impossibly long time — but I’m feeling impatient, so you have THREE days to send me the money. Or you can say ta-ta to anymore secret justicing FOREVER! Bwahahahaha!” Turning again, “Anything you’d like to say, Impossi-blubbers?”

“WEHE’RE SORRY, BIHIG DHEHE!” the blond-haired one cried rather shrill.

“WEHE TRIHIED!” the redhead added.

“SEHEND HEHEHELP! AHAHA!” the black-haired one finished.

The video then cut to black, and the tape clicked to a stop.

Staring at the turned-off TV screen, the white-haired man’s eyes swept aside in thought, widening momentarily once more. “Now who the heck do I call to do the impossible that even the Impossibles couldn’t do?!”

**THE END**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Impossibles in: The Tiresome Tickler [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15350634) by [ballpoint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint)




End file.
